Even dead, even gone six years, he was still arranging the board, still moving me around it toward an end he had chosen.

“You knew,” I said to her, slowly.

“When you applied for the job through the agency six months ago.

You knew exactly who we were, and you knew that walking in here would trigger something.

Didn’t you.”

“I knew Edmund Hale was my father,” Juliet said.

Her voice was steady, though her eyes were bright.

“I knew I was walking into his house.